


Fifty Shades of Desire

by beautifullyheeled, HumsHappily



Series: Fifty Shades of Meretricious [2]
Category: 50 Shades of Grey - E. L. James, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 50 Shades of Grey Rewrite, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, From Sex to Love, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sherlock AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind the leather chairs is a large glass-walled meeting room with an enormous dark wood table and twenty well-appointed chairs around it. Beyond that, a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the London skyline, looking out through the city. It‘s a stunning vista. All of the city is open and for the taking. I stand and admire it, momentarily distracted before I sit.</p><p>I fish the questions out of my satchel and go through them, inwardly cursing Sallee for not<br/>providing me with a brief biography. I know little-to-nothing about this man I am about to interview. My nerves are beginning to kick in. Not the time for self-doubt, I pull myself up. I’m a doctor. A surgeon. Who just happens to not work in surgery at the moment. Not until the physio begins to work it’s magic. I look around again while I steady myself. Well, judging by the building - all clinical and modern - he‘s probably fit, tanned, posh to match the rest of the personnel. Another elegant, flawlessly dressed woman comes out of a large door to the right. </p><p>“Mr. Walterson?” the newest person asks...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO very excited to be partnered with HumsHappily in this journey. Months ago she had this brilliant idea- What if Molly wrote Fifty Shades? And it was the story of Sherlock and John- well with a few racy added bits! I hopped on board and wrote the book, I couldn't pass it up!

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair, damn my leg, and damn Sallee for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I tried to add some product to my hair, make it a bit on the cool side, but it‘s not even toeing the line. Maybe I’ll go for a trim after this whole debacle. I feel decidedly un-hip and twice my age this morning.

I try, once more, with my fingers, but I give up quickly ruffling it up a bit. Better, but looks like sex hair.

Sighing, I comb it through with my fingers once again and settle for better than it was. At least I don’t look as old as I feel. I have errands to run and I am supposed to be in the A&E this afternoon, but not now. Instead of going to Waitrose and picking up my laundry, I have to head into the center of London’s business district and meet the enigmatic CEO of HOUSSE Enterprise Holdings, Inc.

From what I have learned, Mr. William Housse is some exceptional _young_ entrepreneur who is now a major benefactor of our Hospital, and his time is extraordinarily precious - much more precious than mine this morning - and he had made time in his busy schedule to give Sallee an interview to give to the board before the up-and-coming unveiling of the new pediatric wing at Saint Bartholomew’s.

“Hamish, I‘m sorry. It took me ten months to get this donation and six of those to schedule this tete-a-tete. You and I will both have possibly moved on by two months time depending on how the new board forms. Neither of us can afford to blow this out, especially with you being looked at as the new head.”

I stare at her red-rimmed runny eyes, her bright pink nose. “Of course I‘ll go, Sallee. You should go back to bed. Would you like some paracetamol?” Sighing, I pull her into a hug. “We’ll be fine. Set the world on fire and all that. Cure everyone. Make a breakthrough and save lives, yea? That’s why you pulled me back to Bart’s, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that and you are one of the finest surgeons I know. Here are the questions and my recorder. Make notes, I‘ll transcribe it all. Go. Use that charming smile... I don‘t want you to be late.”

“Fine. Yea- I‘m going. I have a long drive. Go back to bed, but please make sure you eat - I made you some soup to heat up later.”

I stare at her fondly. She’s a bit of a prat, but then again, I’m an arse regularly, so...

“I will. Good luck. And thanks Hamish; you‘re a life saver, as usual.”

“Ta!” I smile wryly at her and head out the door to our room.

I cannot believe I have let Sallee talk me into this, but then, Sallee can talk anyone into anything. She‘s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative. Beautiful. Tall, dark skinned with natural springy curls. She‘s my closest friend. We’ve known each other since she dated Harry back in Uni. Still the biggest mistake Harry made, to lose her.

But then she met Clara, so maybe not.

The roads are clear as I set off from Primrose Hill; it looks to be only a thirty minute commute and I consider myself lucky. Fortunately, Sallee’s lent me her car for the day. I have to say her sporty Fiat 500 is so much more fun to drive than taking the tube, though maybe not faster. It’s too bad London is always so congested, traffic-wise; I’d love to get it out on an open stretch sometime. Then again, it’s why I’m flatsharing with Sallee to begin with, to save to move right into the heart of the teeming lot of it. A cabbie honks at me, and I notice the light has gone green on me. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and settle my attention back to the road.

It‘s cloudy, but at least it‘s not raining as I make my way into the city. I have an hour to go and I‘m feeling fairly confident that I should be able to find somewhere to park. My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Housse‘s global enterprise. It‘s housed on several floors at 30 St. Mary Ave., affectionately (or nefariously) known as ‘The Gherkin’. The building itself is all curved glass and steel, an architect‘s utilitarian fantasy. I supposed that being in real estate, that Housse would be quite pleased to have that particular address. I feel an immense sense of relief, entering the doors to the building, that I‘m not late as I walk into the enormous, frankly intimidating first floor foyer, all glass, and steel, and white sandstone. Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive blonde-haired young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She‘s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate. I turn on my charm and smile warmly, hoping to not cock up this interview so that I can tell Sallee at the end of my day that all went well.

“I‘m here to see Mr Housse. Dr. Hamish Walterson for Sallee Callaghan.”

“Excuse me one moment, Dr. Walterson.”

She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously in front of her. I am beginning to wish I had worn the grey jacket to finish off my suit rather than only my navy blue peacoat. I have made an effort and worn a pressed ivory shirt and soft blue cashmere jumper to ‘look more accessible’, as Sallee would say, ‘less ex-military smart-arse surgeon’. Maybe I did too well a job given how the P.A. is looking me over.

“Ms. Callaghan is expected. Please sign in here, Dr. Walterson. You‘ll want the end lift on the right; press for the 30th floor.” She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front.

Personally, I think it‘s obvious that I‘m just visiting, but I do understand the protocol. I thank her and walk over to the lifts, past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than me in their well-cut, waistcoats-included jet black suits. I wonder if they are ex-military, as well. Something about their... well, mostly everything about them now that I’ve started to look for it... I suppose that, as many high profile people might grace these floors, it wouldn’t be unexpected.

The lift whisks me with unseemly haste to the thirtieth floor. The doors silently open and I‘m in another large foyer, again - glass, steel, white sandstone. In front of me there‘s another desk of an impeccable nature and another young woman, dressed perfectly in a striking black day-wear dress, her lustrous sable hair pulled into a tasteful chignon, rises to greet me.

“Mr. Walterson, my name is Antheia.” The tall lithe woman smiles as if to put me at ease. Antheia points to a seated area of white leather chairs. “Would you wait here, please?”

Behind the leather chairs is a large glass-walled meeting room with an enormous dark wood table and twenty well-appointed chairs around it. Beyond that, a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the London skyline, looking out through the city. It‘s a stunning vista. All of the city is open and for the taking. I stand and admire it, momentarily distracted before I sit.

I fish the questions out of my satchel and go through them, inwardly cursing Sallee for not providing me with a brief biography. I know little-to-nothing about this man I am about to interview. My nerves are beginning to kick in. Not the time for self-doubt, I pull myself up. I’m a doctor. A surgeon. Who just happens to not work _in_ surgery at the moment. Not until the physio begins to work it’s magic. I look around again while I steady myself. Well, judging by the building - all clinical and modern - he‘s probably fit, tanned, posh to match the rest of the personnel. Another elegant, flawlessly dressed woman comes out of a large door to the right.

“Mr. Walterson?” the newest person asks.

“Yes,” I nod as well. “Dr. Walterson.”

“Mr. Housse will see you in a moment. My name is Molli. May I take your coat?”

“Thank you, yes.”  I struggle out of my coat; my shoulder _would_ choose now to play up.

Antheia shows back up, smiling as before. “Have you been offered any refreshment?”

“No?”

She frowns and eyes the young woman who is back at the twin to Antheia’s desk.

“Would you like tea, coffee, water?”

“Cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.”

“Molli, please fetch Dr. Walterson a cup of tea,” Antheia says sternly to the young woman at the desk. Molli scoots up immediately and walks to a door on the other side of the foyer. “My apologies, Mr. Walterson. Molli is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Housse will be another five minutes.”

Molli returns with a small tray that she places beside me on the glass pillar cylinder that I suppose is supposed to be a table. On it is a beautiful, ornately decorated teacup with saucer, with its matching single serve teapot and small plate that held three biscuits.

“Here you go, Dr. Walterson. I didn’t know if you wished sugar or-”

The younger woman bit her lip as she looked at me. I wondered how long she would last in this office. It didn’t seem her sort of place. Maybe, if I did get head of pediatric, I’d see if she’d like to come work for me at the hospital.

“No, no, this is perfect. Thank you.”

Molli moved back to her desk then, a small smile on her face, to continue her work. I idly bite at my lip as I glance over at the women over my teacup.

 _Perhaps Mr. Housse insists on mostly women in his employ,_ I‘m wondering idly, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, rather beautiful man exits.

He seems younger, relatively fit, too. I wonder idly if he’s single because Sallee would most certainly be internally drooling if she were here. Maybe, if- well, I’ll just let her know that tall-dark-gorgeous exists in the sphere of Mr. Housse’s associates.

He turns and says through the door, “Golf, definitely, Housse.”

I don‘t hear the reply. The gentleman turns, sees me, and smiles; his face is kindly. Molli has jumped up and called the lift.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he says, his voice warm like summer causing Molli to look up and smile as he departs through the sliding door.

“Mr. Housse will see you now, Dr. Walterson. Do go through,” Antheia says. “You don‘t need to knock – just go in.”

I stand, collect my satchel, leave the lovely tea lonely and make my way to the partially open door. She smiles at me as I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over nothing as my leg spasms, and I stumble into the office.

Yes, this is exactly how I wished my day to go.

Damn my leg. Gentle hands are around me helping to pull me up. I am so embarrassed - damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Just what you wish to see in a doctor... clumsiness. Though I know mine is not borne of a natural inclination, I am still ruffled and can only imagine what Housse thinks of me.

“Dr. Walterson?” Housse extends a long-fingered hand to me, once I‘m steady. “I’m William Housse. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?”

Oh, bloody hell, he’s attractive too. Very attractive. Tall, dressed in a fine charcoal suit, white shirt and aubergine tie with dark hair and intense, verdigris eyes that regard me shrewdly.

“Actually, yes. Thanks.” It takes a moment for me to find my voice. “Thank you for seeing me. Ms. Callaghan, she’s indisposed today. I am sorry if there is any inconvenience-” I grimace momentarily, then extend my hand to him, and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel a strange shiver go through me. Nerves must be on all-alert. Wonderful. “Ms. Callaghan and I are co-workers. She asked me to come in her stead as we have been working closely together on the new wing.”

“I see.” His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it‘s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite. I think I can see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I‘m not sure.  “Is here adequate?”

He waves me towards a white leather tufted L-shaped couch. The room is vast with an enormous modern dark wood desk beside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything is white except on the wall by the door, there‘s a succession of small, square paintings, thirty-six of them arranged in a square.... They are exquisite, a series of mundane, forgotten objects, painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

“A local artist. Baz,” he says, when he catches my gaze.

“Raising the ordinary to extraordinary? Fantastic,” I murmur, distracted, by him and by the

paintings. He gazes at me intently.

“Yes, good catch,” Housse replies softly.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the room is pleasant enough, but it‘s quite cold, clean.

Clinical.

I wonder if it truly reflects the personality of the gentleman who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I am disturbed by where my thoughts are heading so I busy myself with finding the questions and discussion points that Sallee has given me. and then setting up the recorder. When I finally look at him, he‘s watching me; one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he‘s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry, I‘m not used to this. Dictation is normally afterward, not during.” I try a smile back.

“Take all the time you need, Dr. Walterson,” he says.

“Did Ms. Callaghan explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes. I am giving a large private donation and the hospital wishes to grace the ward with my name. There is to be a mixer of sorts, I do believe.”

 _Oh_... This is news to me. Interesting though. Would it mean he might also seat on the pediatric board as an impassive observer? Something to ask Sallee about later after my shift. If she’s human and not comatose.

“Good... Well, I have some questions I’m supposed to go through with you-”

“What of my questions?” Housse’s eyes alight with something close to glee. “What is a skilled surgeon doing in my office instead of in an operating theatre at previously mentioned hospital? Especially if he is one of the top two choices for head of said new wing?”

I feel the heat in my cheeks and I pull myself up in attempt to look taller. “And how do you- I’m

here to discuss you, Mr. Housse. Did you have them pull my hospital-?”

“I observe people, Hamish. I may call you that, yes? It’s what I do. You were in Afghanistan when you were injured- Medecins Sans Frontieres, yes? But you were there previously, before your retirement into the private sector, possibly RAF?”

“Brilliant! How-?” I ask, the wonder evident in my voice. “I know that my service is not mentioned on the hospital’s ‘meet-your-doctor’ page.”

Housse fixed me with an odd look. “Again, I observe. Deduce. People are inundated with stimuli and data every second of their existence. I have honed that capability.”

“I bet a few in neuroscience would love to have a discussion with you.” I smile genuinely. I am delighted even though I know I must sound ridiculous.

“Yes, well, it’s a good thing that the funds are going to pediatrics then, is it not?” That time, the hint of a smile turned somewhat wicked. “You’ll be working in the new ward either way, will you not?”

“I- yes. I will be.” I know that my cheeks have coloured partially in embarrassment.

“Ah, but it depends on your rehabilitation. I did not mean to bring up-”

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s all fine. And true. I’m working in the A&E for the time being.”

Housse must have seen that I was still in discomfort and then decided to save me from myself. “Now you’re the one who has questions you need answered, not I. Thank you for your candor, Hamish.”

I nod and clear my throat. “Um, yes, Sallee’s-” I press the start button on the recorder and open the small moleskine I’ve retrieved from my pocket.

“You‘re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him.

He smiles ruefully at me, but looks vaguely disappointed.

“Business is all about people, Dr. Walterson, and I‘m very good at judging people - I know how they operate, what makes them flourish, what weakens them, what inspires them, and how to incentivise them. I employ many, many good people and I reward them well. I believe that the road to success in any scheme is to make oneself master of that scheme and I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts and I have good solid ideas and an exceptional team that can come up with good solid ideas – again, good people.”

“I think that you might just be that good. Maybe a little luck in timing of things? Look at the way you read me in seconds-”

This drew the enigmatic smile back out. “The harder I work the more _luck_ I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team.”

“So, your team? Are they just as happy for this contribution to move forward? Are they themselves involved in philanthropy?”

“Yes, they are. As a matter of fact, my Vice President, Gabriel, is very involved with children’s leagues in areas that could do with some care.”

“This contribution is being given freely?” I ask the next question, but something catches in my memory. “I’ve seen the plans, you know. Heard that you had some control in the design-”

“Oh, I exercise control in many things, Dr. Walterson”

I look at him and he holds my gaze steadily; impassive. Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? I’ve been through battlefields...

He continues, “I employ a multitude of people. That gives me a certain... sense of responsibility.”

I think my mouth drops open. Out of everything, this was not an answer I had expected to hear.

“This discussion is necessary for my public image, the image of the hospital. Some have been known to see me as you say - cold. Calculating. Things are merely facts to me. Facts I choose not to shy away from. Beyond that, if I carry a different persona in my private life, then it is just that. Private.”

He raises an eyebrow at me as if in challenge.

“I can understand, but laying it bare as that... it does sound callus.” When had this turned from the questions that Sallee had given me to ask? I had a feeling I would be working A&E into perpetuity after this. “Do you have any interests outside of your work?”

“I have varied interests,” A ghost of a smile touches his lips, his eyes full of mirth. “Incredibly varied.”

“Oh, and what are those?”

I was going to hell, and had better pack light. In for a penny, as the Americanism goes.

“My other interests?” He smiles a dazzling smile at me. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good looking. “I sail, I fly,” Mr. Housse shifts in his leather chair and fixes me with a knowing look. “Various physical pursuits.”

I clear my throat and glance down at Sallee‘s questions, wanting to get off this subject before I stuck my foot in my mouth again and brought it round to a more personal note yet again. I couldn’t help it - the man was damn engaging! Licking at my lips, I clear my throat again before meeting his piercing gaze.

“Why, specifically, real estate?” I ask, trying to get back once again to the more professional course. We both know it is a dodge to break the tension that has somehow permeated the air.

“I like to build things. I like to know how things work, what makes things tick; how to construct and deconstruct and build it into something new. Or, sometimes, find its secrets.”

“I thought you stated that numeration was your cuppa?” Now who is teasing who? Am I teasing or trying to actually get to know the man? I’m not even sure. “Seems to me you might be a grown man playing with buildings like Lego.”

His mouth quirks up at me and he stares at me appraisingly. “Possibly... though, there are people I know who‘d say I don‘t have a heart, and would call your idea of Lego building sentiment.”

“Well, I can see that. It is, a bit. Sentimental.” Shut up, Hamish. “But you do seem... passionate about your personal pursuits, so what others think can’t quite be true, now can it?”

The look he gives me when he meets my eyes again is _slightly_ softer. He actually bites at his lip for a half-second before he answers. “I‘m a very private person, and I‘ll go a long way to protect my privacy. I don‘t often give interviews.” He allows the words to trail off.

“Then why agree to the interview?”

“Because I‘m a benefactor of the hospital now... and to all intents and purposes, I couldn‘t get Ms. Callaghan off my back. She had half of my PR team in fits.” He was smiling again. “I admire that kind of tenacity.”

I knew just how tenacious Sallee could be. Case in point. I was here and she hadn’t rescheduled. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was trying her hand at something.

“This all sounds very philanthropic. Is there something else you feel passionately about? Feeding the world‘s poor? Bettering education across the globe?”

“It‘s just business.” I think he‘s being disingenuous, yet I nod.

“Do you have a personal philosophy that has trailed into your work then?”

“I do not believe in philosophy as such- maybe a guiding principle.” He softens again, just that little bit. Leans forward. “I‘m very singular, driven. I like control. I expect it not only of myself, but those around me.”

Now it is my turn to lean in. To lick at my lips in hesitation before I speak. “So- you don’t want to possess things? But have self-possession?”

“I want to... deserve... to possess what it is that I do. What I wish to.” The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, then gone in a flash. “But, well, yes.”

I can‘t help but think that we are talking around... something. I know it’s silly, to think that this is anything but business-minded. Yet we hold one another’s gaze for a moment before I blink and then look down at my notes. The tension is now most certainly there now that I’ve taken a second to collect myself. Our conversation has clearly taken a turn to the realm of beyond professional. I try to recover my demeanor. Slowly, so as  not to break it too quickly, just in case this is... well, something.

I realise this question is- well, why would it be important?

“Um, this question- it’s asking about you being- adopted... how far do you think that‘s shaped the way you are? If it is out of line-”

He frowns at me slightly. “I have no way of knowing.”

My interest is piqued. “How old were you when you were adopted?”

“This is all a matter of public record.”

“I didn’t mean to... that was actually just me asking. About the age. Personally.” There. Admittance to curiosity.

“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents... I‘m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”

“Oh. You‘ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work. Well, married life, I suppose-”

“Dr. Walterson-” His voice is almost terse. It is most certainly reigned in.

“So, not dating any lovely young ladies then?”

“Not _really_ my area-” His eyes closed minutely, as he seemed to consider his next words; possibly gauging my reaction.

I just nod and continue on as if simply curious to his answer. “Boyfriend then, Mr. Housse?”

I hear his sharp intake of breath as I tentatively look him in the eye. I leave my own expression open. Non-judgemental.

“Hamish, I-” He raises his eyebrows, an almost confused look to his face.

“It’s all fine... William.” Somewhere in my mind, I hope Housse doesn’t take exception to me using his first name. “If it was out of order-”

He cocks his head to one side. “Was that you asking? Personally?”

“Yes.” My mouth feels as dry as the desert I once stood in. “Yes, I am.”

“You might wish to turn off the recording device then.”

“Oh.”

I pick it up, turn it off, setting a mental note to erase the last bit, and slide it back into my pocket. I try to breathe in normally, but for some reason it stutters. I feel as if I am back at uni talking to the fly-half after practice just before snogging someone of the same sex for the first time. Shaking myself internally, I come back to those sea glass coloured eyes searching my face.

“And Sallee is-”

I see where he is going. “She‘s my flatmate. Until I get settled better, that is. No entanglements.”

His elbows touch his knees as Housse leans further forward; his hands steeple at his chin in contemplation before he fixes me with a piercing stare.  “Did you volunteer to do this interview?”

William’s voice is quiet in a way his eyes are not.

“I- sort of? She’s ill?” I return the answer in a softer tone as well, confusion obvious.

“All true. Hamish, would you-”

I lean closer as well, just to listen to his voice. This is madness. I might as well be shipped to Bedlam for all that this will get me.

There‘s a knock at the door and Molli enters. “Mr. Housse, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting-”

“We‘re not finished here, Molli. Please cancel my next meeting.” His eyes never leave mine.

Molli hesitates, staring at him... She‘s momentarily lost. Housse raises his eyebrows at her.

She flushes. Nods.

“Very well, Mr Housse,” Molli mutters and then exits. William frowns and then turns his attention back to me.

“Where were we-?” William places his elbows on the arms of the chair and re-steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very distracting. “I want to know about you as well; I think that‘s only fair.” A roguish smile peeks through the softened exterior. “I’m... curious.”

“There‘s not much to know. Unattached doctor. You saw the most interesting things in the first few minutes.”

This did not stop him from still asking. “What will you do in London, then, if you are not chairing the pediatrics ward?”

I shrug. “Wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?” I try for a smile that I don’t really feel. “Keep working in A&E, maybe become a part of a secondary practice close to home?”

“We run an excellent program here,” Housse says quietly.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “I- Oh. I’ll... keep that in mind. I- yes. Thanks.” As it sinks in, I have to ask. “Um, a doctor though? Here? Or for... personal? You aren’t ill-”

“No. Not ill.” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of his crooked smile playing on his lips. “Why do you say that? A physician could be incredibly useful to have on call. Both for myself, as well as my upper-staff.”

“Well, as much as... I would? As in, I’d be kept on retainer? But this is... I mean, I understand you are-” I was not going to be crass and mention pay grades. No. “And I have no idea what the hospital-”

William scoots forward to the end of his chair, his hands on the arms. “Would you like me to show you round?”

“As much as I would like it, I- well, I do have a shift tonight. With traffic at this hour.” Since I’ve overstayed my appointment time is left unsaid. “Well it will be a tight window, that.” I give him an apologetic smile. “Especially now with the rain. You know how some people are-”

“You‘re driving back to Primrose Hill?” William sounds surprised, anxious suddenly. He glances out of the window and sees it has begun to rain. “Well, you‘d better drive carefully. Are you sure, with…” He seems to argue with himself for a moment before his focused gaze is once again locked on my person. “Do be safe.”

I must have looked perplexed. Or astounded. As he stands, he offers me his hand. “Did you get everything you need?”

“Yes. Um, yeah.” I try for a softer smile, my teeth catching on my lower lip. His eyes narrow slightly and I catch him watching. “Thank you for letting me interview you, Mr. Housse.”

“William, please. The pleasure‘s been all mine.” I hate how final that sounds. Ridiculous. “Until we meet again, Dr. Walterson.”

“Hamish, William. It’s fine.” I shake his hand briefly, feeling again the odd current between us. It must just be my nerves acting up in my arm again. I’ll do the physio while on shift to break it loose again. I hold his hand in a relaxed manner. “Might be forward of me, but... dinner? Sometime, when your schedule allows?”

“I will see what it allows, _Hamish_.” The softer tone is back, then he is moving gracefully to the door after slowly letting go. “I‘m very busy. Sometimes odd hours, depending on where the client lives.”

“Odd hours here, too. Hospital physician, remember?” I attempt the tease hoping to get a brief glance at his smile once more before we part ways. I walk into the foyer and he follows. Antheia as well as Molli both look up in surprise.

“You did have a coat?” he asks before looking towards the two women.

“Yes.” I smile instead.

Molli leaps up and retrieves my coat, which Housse takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling beyond self-conscious, I put my arms into it and he puts his hands very briefly on my shoulders as he pulls it over me. I gasp at the contact as he straightens the lines of my shoulders.

If he notices, he gives nothing away. “I will see to my schedule.”

The words were so quiet I knew they were meant only for my ear. I stop myself from beaming; only the side of my lip twitches. William presses the lift door and we stand there for a beat before the doors open and I step in, then turn to look at him one last time. He‘s leaning against the doorway beside the lift, one hand on the wall... He really is very, very handsome. Younger. Just by a bit. Those damn eyes. Smoldering, now that only I can see them.

“Hamish.” He says as a farewell.

“William.” I nod once; agreeing to what, I know not.

The doors close. I lean against the back of the lift and try to compose myself. “Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

The sky outside is a mosaic of greys, clouds painting the hidden blue a mottled colour that called for indoors and fireplaces; preferably with hot tea and a couple of sweetened scones. 

_'Oh, well,'_ I think, _'three out of four isn't terrible.'_

The weather turn has forced me to pull out my cane; also the little slip at Housse’s office if I’m being truthful with myself. It’s not as if it isn’t beautiful- the tawny sort of colour of the thing, its top a refined flat head of inlaid mother of pearl, all greens and blues, the gold work holding it masterfully done. I should be glad that I'd found it. Completely by chance. That the thing was my proper height and that it had the added history of being used by an officer returning from Afghanistan over a hundred years prior. It's just a reminder of things better left to the heat and unforgiving sands of the land still embattled. It also did not help that it, too, brought about thoughts of that singular afternoon spent in that modernistic office with a man whom I'd found rather attractive. That, too, should be left alone.

When was the last time I allowed for this? It was ages ago. I couldn't help but feel a small bubble of curiosity now that I was settled, well sort of settled, could I? William was clever and felt just this side of dangerous. My own brand of kryptonite.

Looking out again, I ignore the journal article in my lap seeking edits in favour of thoughts of a certain enigmatic male who has eyes that were not unlike the skies above. Daydreaming. I am daydreaming about him and it is idiocy. The next time I see him, it'll be weeks from now at the gala for the opening of the wing. I’ve already gone to a fitting for it, Sallee pushing me into getting a new suit for the occasion- but I couldn't deny how the navy blue of the thing, once the tailoring was done, would look damn good. Maybe we’d brush into one another there and he could chat him up a bit privately. If Housse still seemed interested, of course. The thought of a quiet corner, perhaps a private visit that would lead to my new office on the floor- 

_'Wake up, Walterson, you have plenty to do right here and now.'_

I take a sip of the tea and close my eyes to clear my thoughts. Barely getting a reprieve from them before the sound of a throat being cleared close to me brings me once again to the present, I open my eyes. As if on command, the man that has been haunting my thoughts is here. Right beside me. Expecting me to speak. I quickly glance to my cane and then just as swiftly ignore it.

“Dr. Walterson. What a pleasant surprise.” William stares at me, his gaze unwavering and intense.

Looking all tousled hair and county-gentleman in his heather grey cabled jumper, dark jeans and walking boots is the man who I have not been able to get out of my head for the better part of a week. I must be having difficulty locating my brain as well as my voice, as my mouth refuses to work properly. It seems disengaged from the rest of my body.

“Mr. Housse,” I state because that‘s all I am able to.

There is a ghost of a smile on his face and his eyes are alight with humor as if he‘s enjoying some private joke.

“I was in the area,” he says quietly by way of explanation. “Out of London this weekend, I needed to finish a few things to make a long weekend of it." His eyes carried traces of mirth. "It‘s a pleasure to see you again, Hamish.”

His voice is dark, filled with a warm quality. A fine scotch couldn’t be more smooth. I find myself wondering if that is indeed what the husky tones would taste like on my tongue. I shake my head slightly. My heart is loud in my ears and I have no question as to if I‘m blushing furiously or not. Clearing my throat, I try to coax the colour away from my cheeks and neck. Yes, Even there. I am so thrown by seeing him standing before me that I almost forget to breath.

I laugh. 

Finally, my cognitive function is restored and reconnected with the rest of my body.

He smiles, a small laugh escaping him as well, and again it‘s like he knows something I have yet to discover. He must be a jokester. Pranks and the like to those closest. His smile says as much. I breathe deeply and smile back and offer my hand. 

“Willam. It is a surprise! A welcome one, though.” I look down at my work, but find it even less interesting than it was seconds ago. I quickly come to the decision to offer him a seat at my table. Making small talk, I try to find a way to ask without sounding too presumptuous. Trying to reclaim my friendly-yet-professional face, even as I feel a quick rush of hope. “In for coffee before you’re off then? Been to the hospital about the last of the blueprints and minute changes?”

“Yes. And yes.” Housse murmurs, looking both surprised and delighted now. “Deducing now, are we?” His eyebrow raises jauntily as the corner of his mouth raises. “Oh, very good.”

“Well, a doctor is a diagnostician.” I smile up cheekily at him. “Can be one. I try to fill that role sometimes.”

“This time you did well!” He praises with humor in his tone. Looking at the empty seat at my table he rests his fingers lightly on the back as he speaks. “Mind a moment of company before we both go our ways?”

I‘m aware that my leg does not feel as dodgy as it did on the walk over. I am also aware that those sea glass eyes are watching my every move, as if the minute flick of my finger against my own wool trousers telegraph every thought I am having. Though I am glad that for an office day, I chose this mossy green suit with jacket in case I was pulled into more last minute meetings about the minutia of it all. Paired it with my favourite coffee coloured jumper with the vee, collar undone on the shirt beneath. Spoke of a relaxed day ahead, but planning just in case. I was certain he was taking in my more relaxed frame as his own eyes track to the cane and back without a word.

“Absolutely. Please.” I say too brightly. I stand too, then hesitate. I was uncertain. Do I pull his chair out? Should I order him his coffee? Damn. Was it tea he preferred? “Let me order, what would you like?” 

There. 

Adult words. Better.

“Coffee. Black. Two sugars,” he states as he watches me remove my jacket and rest it along the back of my chair. His fingers play along the top of the wood of the one he will eventually sit on. The length of them is surely exaggerated by their paleness drifting across the cherry stain. 

With my heart practically strangling me, because it‘s in my throat, battling with my brachia, I just smile and nod. He follows me to the counter as I weave through the other patrons and busy tables. Why is he here at The Criterion of all places? I knew, in my mind, that it was just as he said. He was stopping for a small repaste before starting finalised negotiations that came at the end of building and everyone was against the clock, so to speak. William had no more expected to see me than I him. That was all. It was pleasant though. More than pleasant, my heart seemed to rumble back from its cage. The idea is so utterly preposterous I kick it out of my head.

“So, whereabouts is your estate?” I know that it’s polite to make small talk, but this is also again a personal question. I mean it as both chit-chat and enquiry. 

He takes it as such. Once again I see that quieter look grasp his face. “East Sussex. Quite picturesque, even in this chill.”

I nod and tell my heart to shove it as I desperately try to not act as if I am in sixth-year and talking with my crush. “Sounds lovely.”

“You should come,” William whispers as he moves close to my body; I assume only due to the small space at the counter and press of people around it. His breath is freshly minty. Again I wonder as to the taste. Would it be the cool soothing flavour of mint tea or biting and sharp like peppermint sweets? And later mellowed by the sweetened coffee, what then?

“Is this all part of your daily day then?” I quietly return, but back slightly against him. He remains steady and does not draw away. I do not linger, but it is enough to know that he is indeed comfortable with our proximity.

“Something like that,” he acknowledges. I can hear the smile.

“It- could be a possibility.” I watch as those same fingers trail along the marble of the counter. He has moved his arm to reach it. I am once again touching him. This time it is our shoulders to almost our hips. I try to remember that breathing is not boring.

“This one will do-” William looks up to the server who is eyes are quite wide. What an intimate picture we must make given the colour high on her cheeks. He points to two slices of what is possibly spice cake. “Yes, the courgette with the honey-cream glaze.”

“That will go well with your coffee-”

“And your tea, Hamish.” I swear his lips brush the shell of my ear as he maneuvers away.

I look up and see the poor girl flushed. “Those then, yes,” I declare.

She looks glad to plate them and have us off. Well, half-glad. She might have wished him still here, and yet he is not. The long legged coffee-two-sugars-feed-you-up is now back at my table. 

Our table, I quickly mentally revise.

As I come up behind him, he turns and watches me, his eyes still alive with some spark of something I am afraid to hope for. “Hmmm... I‘d like to maybe take you away as soon as the tedious business I have at the hospital is done. You’ll join me then?” 

“We hardly know one another-” I place his plate down to the right of his coffee. Our fingers touch and once again that spark of _something_ sets me alight. I involuntarily inhale. The spike of want it creates is driven to my toes.

“Have you ever been?” he asks. 

His voice is once again hedging on intimate, low, almost beckoning me forward to fall. I shake my head before I speak. I need a moment to find my voice and the devil knows it. 

“Only ages ago. No landed gentry am I.” I try for levity. “I think we both know that I’ve rarely had time, William.”

“You should make the time.” His voice soothes over me, soft; that warmth like whisky back once again. “Tell me, Hamish, what do you enjoy?”

“Reading. Solving things.” 

“So mysteries then?” He cocks his head to one side. 

“Yes, and some real crime books from time to time. One cannot live by Agatha alone.”

William finally takes up his fork and depresses it against the moist cake. Removing just a sliver of it, he makes a show of placing it in his mouth. Of pulling the fork away. His eyes dropped closed as he did so. Hums in delight as he chews minutely before swallowing just to take a sip of his coffee. The bastard knows exactly what he is doing. What he is doing is going straight to places where things shouldn’t be at half past nine in the morning. Unless you are with a lover. In bed. And even then it’s decadent.

His eyes finally open, though are heavy-lidded. “Is there anything else you’ll need?” 

I am lost and I know it. 

I take a quick mental stock. “I have my satchel and chargers, and there are clothes in my office. I cannot believe I am going to say yes and go with you-”

“You were in Afghanistan-”

“Iraq- Well, yes there too, but-”

“So not the most insane thing you have done then. Trust a stranger?”

“Trust got me a dodgy shoulder and a leg that plays up.”

This hardened his features. He was angry, though it was obviously not directed towards me personally. “I never will harm you, Hamish. Unless you ask it of me.” His words were laced with heat of variable sorts.

I was fucked. “Yes, fine. I-” I reached over and cupped my left hand over his right. “I believe you.”

“I will never lie to you unless I must. Trade secrets. All that.”

I nod and wonder where all this is coming from and where it is going. It feels as if we’ve gone from awkward first coffee to possibly sending out a happy announcement by the end of the week.

“How’s the screening? The questionnaire?” It takes a minute for me to catch out to what he is asking the derailment is jarring.

“Fine, I suppose. I do know Sallee mentioned needing an up to date portrait of you for the unveiling-”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “What sort of photograph does she need?”

“Not the stiff sort. I mean, I know she hoped to get one more... natural. I could, I mean, since I will be with you. Take them. At your county estate. Against books. With your- looking like that-”

His lips part slightly, like he‘s taking a sharp intake of breath and he blinks at me... looking lost for a fraction of a second, and the earth shifts slightly on its axis... for the both of us. I realise I am still holding his hand. I worry my lip and my eyes flick from our fingers back to his singular gaze.

Oh my.

“I- I see, Hamish.” It is the first time I have ever heard him not precisely say what he intends. I really believe that he might just feel the flutter. The spark that is humming between us. His pupils grow large as he seems to take a steadying breath.

“Hamish? Hamish Walterson?” Comes a jovial voice out of no where on my left. 

“Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Housse.” 

I immediately sit up, our hands drift apart as I sit upright. He frowns as I turn away from him to find out who caused the intrusion. My stomach is most certainly clenched. I look up finally, praying that the moment wouldn’t be lost with the intrusion. When I see who it is I can not stop the warm smile that crosses my lips. 

“Michael!” I stand up to greet him properly. He hugs me hard... surprisingly hard.

“Hamish! Hi, mate! It‘s so good to see you.” The now-slightly-padded Michael says enthusiastically.

“How are you? Are you here in London now? Coming back to Saint Bartholomew’s I hope?”

He took a step back and examined me as if he expected some hint of something. I wonder how much of the news of my injuries had traveled. His eyes alighting on the hilt of the cane smarts a bit, but his attitude remains jovial. “Yep! Married now too! You‘re looking well Hamish, really well!” 

I noticed William watching us like a hawk, his eyes speculative, his mouth in an uncertain line. 

“Come on now! Look I have someone for you to meet. Michael,-” I say to try and diffuse the antagonistic look on Housse‘s features. “I’d like to introduce you to William Housse-”

“The William Housse? The one who gave the funding for the peds wing?” Mike goes from openly curious to recognition in a flash. Then to awe in less than a nanosecond. William smiles politely at him, but his smile doesn‘t quite reach his eyes. ”Oh, Mr. Housse it is ever an honour! We’ll be able to do so much for the children now!”

“Mr. Newton.” William holds his hand out, his face once again closed. I found myself instantly missing the softer attentions he had been showing me. “It is a pleasure to meet one of Hamish’s old friends.”

Michael looks around then for a second before seeing our cups. Mostly empty now he seems to jump at the chance to put on a good impression. “Wow! Is there anything I can get you two?”

“Hamish has it covered, Mr. Newton. But, thank you.” 

It was baffling. The change in his demeanor. Cool, yet polite. Enough to know that the extra attention was not necessary. Was this how he was with people? No wonder Sallee had been concerned about missing that initial appointment. He didn’t seem a right bastard, but he certainly was skirting the line of politeness with his tone.

“Yes, well then. Best be off.” Michael smiles kindly towards me. “See you soon. I expect your name next to mine. Fingers crossed, all that.”

“Ta, Michael!” 

I nod, giving the man a pat on his shoulder before sitting once again at our table. My tea, well what is left of it, was cooling rapidly, but I decided to brave through it. I pick up the second fork and cut a square of the pastry for myself and pop it in my mouth as my nerves calm from startled to breathily soothed. I take a deep breath aware that William is watching me curiously.

“Were you lovers?” 

I glance up at him and I wish I had schooled my features as the astonishment was clear; he‘s watching me so closely I feel like dropping my gaze. Subverting it to the pastry or the table. Somewhere. But I don’t because I am an adult and have had things that have thrown me before. 

This should not, but it does. Just a little.

“I- yes. Of sorts. Quite a while ago.” Why I am explaining my sexual history? I can’t even find a good excuse. He asked and I felt as if I needed to answer honestly. Potential- whatever we were- deserved to know. Didn’t they?

“Hamish-” My name crosses his lips, caressed by his breath and full of intention. Low and dangerous. 

_Once again I am seventeen and on the cusp of something beautiful. Something full of possibility._

I keep my eyes on his as I nod once. I try to agree to the unvoiced question that is clearly in his eyes, my voice catches. Breaks a bit. I cough and sip hastily at my quite cold tea to hide my consternation.

“Very good... shall we go then?” The warmth of that smile is just for me. Small and private and begging to be tasted. Kissed away. 

Soon, I promise myself. “First the hospital. Then your place. Yes. William.”

He stands and turns. Putting on his coat, he pulls out my chair and makes a small negating noise at the back of his throat. I know it is because I only took a singular bite of the pastry. I think it is sweet. He holds my jacket for me. After I have it on he smooths the shoulders, then back. I pick up my cane, and find that I do not need it. My balance is steady. His hand remains resting at my waist as we leave, as if he is mindful of my leg as well, just the hint of warmth and pressure tells me it is there. I don’t find it unwelcome in the slightest. I decide right then and there to commit to whatever this was between us.

I am a very adaptable person and yet it all is confusing. I have never been filled with such bitter-sweet feelings so early on in any dalliance. I never find myself being as forthcoming as I am with him. William Housse is so very masculine, yet lithe. He moves as if fully comfortable in his body, as he should be, but it is _more_. With a purpose. As if he is parting the sea of people a ship until himself. That I am his twin on maiden voyage. But now, now he is guiding me alongside him and I do not know what longer role he wishes me to have. If any.

I find myself hoping above all hopes that I am very far from the safety of shore for a very long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We cross the expansive, bustling lobby of the hotel toward the entrance but Housse avoids   
> the revolving door, and instead goes out of a quieter side door that leads to the street. A private alcove greets us. Possibly to keep paparazzo from their more singular guests? 
> 
> Housse turns left and strolls to the corner, where we stop waiting for the lights of the pedestrian crossing to change. We make small talk as we stroll to the carpark not far from the cafe. Nothing of consequence is discussed, yet I find myself enamored. It is novel, this feeling. I decide to accept it. If this turns into only a weekend of holiday sex in a beautiful part of Sussex, then I would accept that too. I allow my mind to half-wander in delight at the possibilities that lie ahead.
> 
> “Hamish!” 
> 
> I hear William cry my name.

We cross the expansive, bustling lobby of the hotel toward the entrance but Housse avoids   
the revolving door, and instead goes out of a quieter side door that leads to the street. A private alcove greets us. Possibly to keep paparazzo from their more singular guests? 

Housse turns left and strolls to the corner, where we stop waiting for the lights of the pedestrian crossing to change. We make small talk as we stroll to the carpark not far from the cafe. Nothing of consequence is discussed, yet I find myself enamored. It is novel, this feeling. I decide to accept it. If this turns into only a weekend of holiday sex in a beautiful part of Sussex, then I would accept that too. I allow my mind to half-wander in delight at the possibilities that lie ahead.

“Hamish!” 

I hear William cry my name. 

The thread of worry evident even as I feel the whiplash movement of my own body. He tugs at one of my hands so hard that I fall back against him just as a sports car whips past, narrowly missing me, heading the wrong way up to get into the drive- it all happens so fast – one minute I’m falling, the next I’m in his arms, and he’s holding me tightly against him, my head against his chest. All I can hear is the pounding of our hearts in near tandem. I must have slipped as I know I had felt my leg buckle at the swift jerk. 

I inhale. 

He smells of teakwood and tobacco. Cedar and whiskey and currants. It’s intoxicating. I try to shift, but my leg is still arguing it’s opinion. I am most certainly embarrassed by this. Showing a weakness that is reliably tricky; nerve damage can be that way. I find myself clutching at his lapel like I’m swooned and enamoured. 

That thought is not far from the truth. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

His voice soft and warm. I take another breath. I am not in a warzone. I am in London. 

Time shifts back into motion for me. I realise that William has one arm around me, clasping me to him, as if he, too is affected by my proximity. My eyes track his as they dart over my features, the colour heightened to a golden-green and full of concern. Fingers come up to softly trace my face. His thumb brushes my lower lip; lingering. I hear his breath hitch. Finally, his eyes meet mine, and I startle out of my reverie.

“Yes, yes.” I state simply. Closing my eyes I shake my head and sigh. “Fine, just- dazed.”

By now a couple of the door men have come to us asking if I need assistance. Thankfully, William chooses to slowly stand on his own. I get my own feet under me and stand with him even though it take me a moment to realise I am still holding his lapel. I laugh, a high, nervously giddy thing, as I let go of them. His hands remain at my elbows as he once again seems to take a cursory stock of my body to make sure there is no injury. 

“Honestly, Housse, I am fine. Thanks to you.” I lick at my lip. His last name feels almost foreign in my mouth now after thinking and speaking his given in it’s stead. I do not know how familiar I should be with him around others. “Just a bit shaken.”

He waves the doormen off and they return to the interior of the building talking amongst themselves. Once we are alone and walking again, he leans down and whispers in my ear.

“If you are ashamed-” His voice carries an edge to it. He obviously has misunderstood my verbal distance even though I have still allowed his hand at my waist where it landed as we crossed the street. 

“I’m not, William. I didn’t know how familiar- some men are still _private_ about their affairs.” I stop and turn to face him. Lean into his space now that we are underground and away from the rest of the world. “I didn’t want to out you-”

“I believe our pose was quite intimate, Hamish.” His hand finds my face once again. “I know you were as affected as I.”

I have never wanted to be kissed as much as I did in that moment. 

We leaned into one another, our breath mingling as our lips rested in the chilled air millimetres apart. The warmth built between us during the small check, then his soft mouth covered mine possessively stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I was no virgin, not inexperienced by a mile, but as he swallowed against the small whine that escaped me, I swear my knees went weak. His tongue invaded as our arms wrapped around one another. Our hands clutched hungrily. Mine at his nape, his at my hips. The low rumble from his chest echoed into mine we were so closely pressed. It was heaven. William hooked his thumbs between my jumper and shirt, the coolness of them almost shocking against my warm skin. It ended as quickly as it began. He pulled me close, holding me to him as we caught our breath.

“You and I still have places to be,” His words hot against my ear as his lips caressed the edge of them. “Otherwise I would take you apart right here. Right now.” I am aware of the intimacy only afforded by being exposed as you are in an open space. Close to a wall, hemmed by cars of business people who won’t be back for hours yet. I rock backwards on my heel and pull him further out of view. “I want my hands on your skin... I could take you now, with my hands. Have you later on my bed.”

I hum my assent against his jaw. I’m on my toes, my weight against him. Our hips are all but aligned. I realise I seem needy and do not give a fuck. My tongue finds his pulse and I lick against it gently whinging as his long fingers tuck between my trousers and pants to grip my arse hard. He leverages me against the wall and hungrily steals my lips from their progression. I pant into William’s mouth as he lifts me and pins my cock against his hip; the slide of our bodies illicit in this venue. One of his hands come back around, his fingers flicking at the opening of my trousers. I’m screaming in my head as those damning dexterous digits caress me bollocks to hooded tip. Cottaging this most certainly is not, but it would possibly earn us an ASBO. 

Quiet profanities leave me as William strokes me. I am granite hard in seconds under his ministrations. His touch is light, but steady as his fingers close around me. My breath is coming in hard pulls as he takes me apart. It feels illicit. Naughty. A morning wank in public by some sort of hedonistic sex god? I almost giggle, but it is as if he knows where my mind has drifted so to bring it back his other hand slinks further down along my arse and a finger insinuates itself along my cleft; caresses my arsehole as if it were some delicate thing. 

I seek his mouth and moan into it to quiet myself. Biting against his collar, against his jumper would just not be on. It was all I could do to just hold on as hot and wanting as I was becoming.

“William, not here.” He stops all motion after slowing the kiss.

Bloody hell. 

“Of course.” I kiss him tenderly once as his hands leave my body. 

William fastens me back up, settles my clothing kissing me tenderly back. “Such a surprise you are, Hamish.”

With the memory his touch still burning my skin I bashfully smile, tucking my chin towards my chest for a second. “I’m not normally. Glad I can be for you.”

We both look at one another; him biting at his lip before putting his hand back at the base of my spine. “Shall we?”

I nod. 

Following him to his car, I think of all that we might get up to this weekend and revise my mental list of things to grab from my desk. Solo lube packets feature high on this list, as do nitrile gloves and condoms. Maybe that lidocaine in the small sized bottle. I feel my skin warm at the thought, but it is always good to go prepared for all contingencies. Maybe a couple of enema kits? I sigh ticking things off, knowing my little satchel is going to be quite full when I leave with William, but I hope that preplanning on my end will not seem presumptuous. Paracetamol and naproxen as well. 

He looks at me as he knows what I am thinking. His quiet laugh echoes as he unlocks his Aston Martin Vantage from it’s fob. Turns on the engine before we are even in. The vehicle is a thing of utter beauty. Sleek black with blackout windows. Chrome that looks pure liquid. Screaming sex on tyres is what that is. The interior is a heady mix of William’s cologne and the richness of the ebon leather. Clean. Crisp. Masculine. The supple seat cradles my body. I notice William’s slip of a predatory smile as he closes my door as he goes around the boot before he settles into his own. Looking over to make sure I have fastened my seatbelt, he fastens his own. Before I know it, classical music fills the cabin and we are off. 

There was no real need for small talk between us as we drove. The music was there between us; a beautiful violinist dominated the space as London quickly sped past. Hamish knew in his peripheral memories of his much younger years that he’d listen while he studied. But that had been simply ages. I turned my head and watched as the city I loved melted away into countyside. The roads were bustling, but not terribly. It was earlier than most would be able to get away. I choked down a giggle at the thought it. How illicit it was. 

How had this turn-about in my life occur? 

Licking at my lips, I close my eyes and listen to the sexy purr of the engine mix with the purity of the soloist. This was foreplay of a mental sort if there ever was such a thing. Even I could feel as the car warmed in the interior, more from our shared heat than any other factor. William seemed to shift in his seat. Grip at the wheel a bit tighter. All I could think of was his knuckles against my bare skin. The music is actually quite intoxicating. The smell of the warmed leather seats and his musk are like ambrosia. I feel so very foolish; but it is the truth. My own body is beginning to stir and I discretely cross my ankles and think of evisceration. 

I was surprised that we had been on the road for as long as we have been, but maybe William is as anxious as I to cloister ourselves at his manor. His voice slips through my thoughts and I realise that he has asked something and is waiting for a reply. I blink and bring my attention back fully to the interior of the Vantage.

“I’m sorry, William.” I state sheepishly.

He chuckles lowly. It sets my blood simmering. 

“There is a pull off, just there. The farmer has fresh produce... if you would like to stretch?”

Oh bloody hell, I want to continue on, but I want to also stop to catch my breath. Don’t I? 

“I- I’m fine, yeah. Used to bloody long drives. Not in this luxury mind you... aren’t we close to...?”

“Very, Hamish. Continuing on then.” I catch the slip of a smile on his lips. “Enjoying the view?”

It was true, the light snow against the fields and trees was very picturesque; it gave the whole area a hushed feel. As we were the only car now that we’d pulled off the motorway, it seemed as if we were the only two in the world. The small paved lane was hemmed in with forest and cultivated hedges that led to long drives. I smiled as William soon turned down one that was more wild. The graveled drive crunched nicely under the tyres. I couldn’t help but to smile as the lane slowly gave way and opened to the large circular drive. 

Silence reigned as William turned the car off. Without a word, my host was out and around to my side opening the door for me. 

“Ever the gentleman?” I tease.

William’s eyes were intense as he stepped close after I stood. “Unless you ask otherwise.”

With that, I noticed we were not alone and felt the creep of a blush as the elderly man to William’s left smiled indulgently. William noticed the flick of my attention, and turned to see what had caught my attention. 

“Oh, wonderful Bronby, please, take Mr. Walterson’s satchel and carry all up to his rooms?”

With a nod of his head, Bronby took my things from me and turned back to the house leaving William and I alone beside the Aston. I felt chilled now that we are outside away from the cloistered warmth of the cabin of the car. William’s eyes were on me, searching for something; his lower lip caught between his teeth. My breath arrested as I licked my own hoping for another searing kiss. Right now. I couldn’t find myself to care if my fingers half-froze. I’d just warm them against his pale chest after I have liberated it from the confines of his soft jumper. I imagined slipping the pearly buttons open of his shirt. Marking his skin. I wanted him so very badly. 

“Hamish-” William’s voice was susurrus. “Take the advantage.”

I nod; once. His lips are hot. Smooth. Slightly wet from the interior of his mouth as I plunge into the depths of it. The slick moisture is slightly tannic from coffee earlier, but sweet underneath. Not quite treakle, but close. My tongue rasps against his as William’s hands touch my face. My own hands have found their way between his coat and jacket to his bespoke clad hips. The cool warmed by our shared breath, our shared body heat, and I did not want to stop, but did not want to make a show of it for anyone. I pull away slowly and tip my forehead onto his shoulder and laugh.

“Wonderful.” I gasp between my nervous giggles. “I- This is preposterous.”

“No, this is you saying yes to possibilities. This way, Hamish.”

With that, William was off, one hand at my back the other showing the way before we even took a step. The outside of the manor was formidable, but I could imagine how lush it would seem once the wild rose vines filled in again that seemed to creep along the pillars at the entry; their spicy aroma heavy in the summer heat. I knew I would most likely never see them come to bloom, but it was a nice thought at any rate. The large, solid honeyed toned front door stood open in welcome. The warmth reaches out and beckons us in. 

I am instantly amazed at how open the foyer is, the main stairs going up as one, then spitting into two also splits the space. On either side, there are hallways with open doorways or beautifully tended arches. To our immediate right is a sitting room with such an arch; though as we pass through them to the welcome sight of tea, I notice they have cleverly built in pocket doors. I wondered if they were filled with leaded glass as per the age of the place or if they were thick wooden ones of similar tone. What was it that William would have? I decide that he would stay with whatever was original to the place and tuck it away to explore later. 

“They are leaded coloured panes, Hamish. I will not tell you more as I can tell that you wish to discover on your own. My own rooms are upstairs. Those have the privacy we crave in mind.” William gave me a hot look as he gestured for me to sit on the softly padded high back chair by the fireplace which merrily crackled. 

One cube into my cup and rich spiced tea bloomed in the intimate space he’d had his valet create. William even managed to keep a straight face as he rotated the handle to my left on the saucer before handing it over. It seems that he had a sense of taking care of his lovers, which in my mind set me further at ease for my choices in the matter. 

“Wonderful, thank you.” Ah, there was the slip of the smile I had hoped to see. “Dinner smells lovely, by the way.”

“Yes, Emelie is very proud of her service to the family. My brother was terribly put out when I bribed her over to my home instead of his.”

“Brother then? I have a sister of my own. Used to nik my action man at regular intervals.”

“And how is she enjoying her career as a barrister?”

“How do you do that!” I was still astounded and a bit thrilled. 

“It pays to be able to read people, Hamish. You do it every day as a physician. What I do is not so dissimilar. Negotiation is a tricky thing. Especially between people who are powerful in their own right.” 

I slipped a glance at him in the chair that was the twin of mine and noticed that he once again was openly looking at me; his eyes roving over my chest, glancing back at my lips. By god I wanted to drop my tea and pull my fingers through his perfect fucking hair and have my way with that blessedly gorgeous mouth once again. Dinner was going to be agony. 

Dinner was absolutely brilliant. The chef had left everything mostly done and now, after William showing that he could indeed fully command his own kitchen, much to my delight we were in the private nook of said space eating at the butler’s table. The booth had very well taken care of leather and the table was just as polished even though it was a bit rugged. It spoke of home and hearth and English countryside in a cottage; not a cool jewel that dotted the brow of Winter as its exterior might proclaim to some. No, this was simply marvelous. 

Venison, veg, copious amounts of wine; cheese, bread, more wine. Dessert was a light but decadent, dark affair with blackberries and chocolate mousse. We finished the third bottle on that note and after cleaning up after ourselves, mostly, I found myself trapped against the counter, my arms full of William breathing hotly against my cheek. 

“I want to fuck you, Hamish. Right here.” His hand skated between my shirt and my jumper; roamed where it will. “Pull your clothes aside just enough... no. Undress you for me to see against the firelight... take you roughly against this counter until my name was the only thought in your head. My name huffed out until there were no words left.”

“Oh, god, yes.” I kiss him fiercely, it’s possible I might even taste a bit of iron, but I don’t care. 

My hands are working against his clothing, my feet toed out of my shoes until my stockinged feet touch the cool floor. Our jumpers are off, shirts hanging when William chooses to bend down and bite at my nipple, capturing it in a quick bruising kiss of his own before coming back to my lips. Bloody hell, it is a bit of Heaven, this. I lace my fingers at his neck and hop up toward the counter, his hands steadying me enough to land there before pulling me in tight and brushing our cocks together through the wool and tweed of our trousers. Longer then me, but size hardly matters at this moment. All I know is that I want him desperately. 

Our kiss turns languid and William begins a chuckle, low and full of mirth. I can’t help but to join him in my inebriated state. I feel warm, slow moving like treacle; ready to have him any way that I can.

“We should take this to your rooms.” His lips brush mine as he speaks.

I look up at him, his face so very close to mine and nod. “Yes, we should.”

From there we were moving through the quiet halls and up the stairs to the left and further into the home. Opening a door, he pressed me inside and shut it quickly. His hand was now in mine as he brought it up for a chaste kiss. 

“We are very, very drunk.” I state so that William knows that I am aware of our state. It does not change the fact that I want his cock in me or over me, but there is such a thing as permission. I tease the pleasing shape in his trousers with my free fingertips. “I know that I want you, now, in any way... but if you-”

William stopped my words with the warmth of his mouth as it moved against mine. I could feel him maneuvering me towards the large bed that I had seen, and was quite taken by the prospect of this. This was good. Very good. 

“Would you let me watch tonight, Hamish?” He stroked my cock under my clothes before working the zip. “I want to see you.”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

The thrill that moved though me clenched at my stomach tightly; the throb of desperate need now bubbling low within me. I helped William with what was left of my clothing and then moved backwards up and onto the bed spreading my thighs wide giving him a bit of a show. My hand found my cock and I gave it a couple of slow pulls watching as his eyes went positively dark with want. 

“Move back. Against the headboard.” He finished off his own clothing and then crawled up onto the foot of the bed before settling close to me. “Perfect.”

His hand found his own cock, but held still except for a tug now and then as William’s attention was more on my hand then his own. 

“Touch yourself; your chest for me.” It was an easy thing to do, as my hand had already wandered close to my nipples. I enjoyed toying with them at times and knowing that it was extra sensitive from William’s bite made me that much harder. I realised that my cock had begun weeping precome and that I hadn’t any lube on my hands. Smiling wickedly, I held out my left one, letting go of myself. 

“Lick it.” I cheekily requested. 

William shook his head, but his own left grasped at mine and brought it to his open mouth licking a wide stripe up the middle of my palm. He hummed against the callused skin and licked again, a bit more wetly this time before releasing it. I quickly took myself back in hand and moaned at the difference. “Fuck, William... I cannot wait for this to be your mouth.”

I close my eyes against the thought and still my hand, holding hard. “Oh, Christ... not yet... no.”

“Hamish... come for me.” William rolled onto all-fours, one hand grasping at the headboard as his knees slotted between my butterflied thighs and moaned. “We’ll come together; close.”   
There was no way that I could resist his voice; the tone of it. I palmed myself in a hastened pace, cupping at my exposed head and rolling my thumb against its slickness. As I felt my orgasm build I captured his eyes and refused to let go even as I huffed deeps breaths of air and painted my chest, his name, indeed, on my lips. William growled, I could hear his fingers scraping at the wood as I watched his face turn from urgency to absolute bliss. His jaw going a bit loose, eyes lidding heavily as William tried to keep them open for me. His own come mixing with mine. 

It was bliss as he leaned against me then, breathing as heavily as I. His hair slightly ruffled so that I could see the beginnings of curls, the taste of wine and chocolate and sex in the air between us.

“Shower. I’ll go to my own if you wish-”

“No, what if you slip- or I slip- no. In mine.”

“Alright”.


End file.
